CHAPTER THREE
A/N - Thanks for reading, especially to those who reviewed! That's what every writer craves - feedback! I love reading them, so if you have ANYTHING good, bad or indifferent to say, lemme know! Now the story goes off in a new direction, so now you guys are getting a glimpse into the way my head works instead of the work of JKR. You've been warned…enjoy!
In the week that had passed since that night in his parent's cemetery, Harry had felt his mood slightly improve, the dead weight within his soul easing just a little, enough to let him enjoy the company of his two best friends a little bit more. Ron recovered quickly from the effects of the firewhiskey, and was feverishly working through leads the next morning, much to Hermione's approval; of course, she never admitted that.
As Harry had practiced and practiced to the point of physical exhaustion, Hermione and Ron worked on one lead in particular: R.A.B. The very little workable information that they had uncovered had led them to Hogsmeade, where they currently sat in The Hog's Head, nursing butterbeers.
"I'm telling you," Ron insisted through a hushed voice, leaning against the table with his elbows, "the only name that keeps coming up for me is Regulus Black."
"But he died years ago!" Hermione responded, the same way she had every time Ron brought this up.
"There's nothing saying he didn't make this switch years ago!" Ron countered, referring of course to the false Horcrux that had led Dumbledore, and Harry, away from Hogwarts as the school fell victim of a Death Eater attack.
"He's right," Harry said, "We need to find out who he knew, anyone he might have had dealings with."
"Flourish and Blotts isn't proving any help," Hermione said wearily. Ron suppressed a grin, having believed he would never hear Hermione utter those words about the Diagon Alley store.
"Any other ideas?" Harry asked.
Hermione rolled her eyes, her head propped up by her hand, "Harry, we all know I'll need to use the Hogwarts library."
Harry stiffened, looking away and glowering at nothing in particular. He had swore to himself that he wouldn't set foot in the school until this whole…thing, was over. Days would turn to weeks, weeks would turn to months in sorting through those dusty tomes, and Harry was sure that an attack would come before too long.
Hermione slid her hand across the table, resting over Harry's gently. She gave a small smile, "I promise, I'll be quick."
Harry sighed, nodding slowly. Ron watched hawk-like, his eyes slightly narrowing.
With a sudden blush, her eyes widening as if suddenly realizing where she was, Hermione removed her hand and stood abruptly, mumbling something about going to the bathroom.
Harry glanced over at Ron, "You alright, mate?"
Ron looked back and nodded, neutrally, "Yeah, fine."
"How's Ginny?" Harry asked with a forced casual tone in his voice. He had worried about her, infrequently during the month in which the trio had left Hogwarts.
Ron looked away, shrugging his shoulders, "Yeah, she's alright."
"No hard feelings?"
Ron shook his head, "That's between you two…"
"Is something up?"
Ron's expression softened slightly as he caught Harry's searching gaze. He rubbed at his eye, "Nah, I'm just tired."
Harry sat back in his chair, seemingly placated. Something about Ron was off today, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.
Hermione returned with a cheery expression on her face that Harry knew had to be forced, "Okay, shall we go?"
Harry and Ron stood, slipping their jackets back on and making for the door as inconspicuously as they could. It didn't seem too much of a problem; these days, with so many reports in the news, people were keeping to themselves. Even Harry had noticed a downturn in the number of times he was hounded in the streets as a `celebrity'. Not that he was complaining…
As soon as Hermione opened the door, a blast of cold air the likes of which Harry had never felt before blasted against him, the chill instantly passing through his jacket. The air was blanketed by a thick fog, the same kind that Harry had noticed at his parents' cemetery. The same kind he had read about…
He moved closer to Ron and Hermione, not more than ten feet away on the street yet barely visible. He had to shout over the howling winds, "I swear it wasn't like this earlier!"
"It wasn't!" Ron shouted back, "Blimey, it's cold!"
"Yeah, too cold for the summer months!" Harry shouted.
"This isn't natural!" Hermione said, "Remember the reports we read about the West Country…"
"Dementors," Harry said, instantly looking around. He could only see some fifteen, maybe twenty feet in front of his face. Apparently, this kind of deathly cold, along with the fog, was a result of Dementors breeding. They weren't here, they couldn't be; security around the major wizarding communities was too tight. But they were close…
"Come on, we'll freeze to death out here!" Ron shouted. Together, the three of them began shuffling down the street, towards the grounds of Hogwarts.
Before they had managed to walk more than about thirty or forty feet, the howling winds suddenly subsided a little, the fog in the air dissipating. Harry, Ron and Hermione all stopped, looking around in confusion, as did the relatively few others lining Hosmeade. All of a sudden there was a deafening quiet, the slight chill hanging in the air almost freezing the bewildered locals in place.
"AARGHHH!" A woman's scream spun the three of them around, searching for the source of the commotion and instantly finding it; three Death Eaters were marching down the high street, right for them. For the merest instant, they froze, before Harry instinctively reached for his wand…
"GET DOWN!" A male voice commanded, shouting from behind them. Ron saw a flash out of the corner of his eye and launched himself into Harry and Hermione's backs, tackling them down to the ground as a powerful bolt of brilliant blue-white energy shot over them, expanding and bursting with a blinding flash in front of the Death Eaters. The two masked, black-hooded dark wizards on the sides were pitched high up and back through the air, one smashing through a shop front, the other slamming against a brick wall and falling down unconscious.
Hermione made to get up, to run for safety, but Harry and Ron kept her down on the ground as the one remaining Death Eater locked eyes with his mystery assailant, the gleaming metal scythe held in his right hand betraying his identity…
"MACNAIR!" The same male voice shouted. Harry managed to turn on the ground enough to see a young man approach him, wand pointed at the Death Eater. He looked young, mid-twenties, dressed in Muggle-style jeans and blue denim jacket, his brown hair shaved short, hazel eyes fierce and determined. To Harry, he looked vaguely familiar…
With a sick, twisted grin, Macnair in a flash revealed his wand, firing a curse at his opponent. Just as quickly, the denim-clad wizard leapt, in an instant flipping over in the air, landing directly behind Macnair in less than a second. Harry could scarcely believe it…what the hell?!
Before his mind could catch up, Macnair was now backpedaling, furiously swinging and spinning his scythe with impossible speed and dexterity, clashing and striking against what appeared to be a beam of pure energy, the same blue-white luminescence as whatever spell his attacker had conjured. It emanated from the tip of the wizard's wand, which he held with both hands, sparking and hissing with each ferocious strike and counter-strike, but holding firm. He was chopping and swinging with precision and skill, forcing the Death Eater back in a brilliant display of swordsmanship.
As their battle moved further down the street, Harry deemed it safe to get up to his knees, watching them carefully. He drew his wand, but both men were moving too quickly for him to do anything useful. Besides, this guy, whoever he was, seemed to be beating Macnair down. He lost more and more ground, desperately swinging and spinning to deflect blow after blow, barely having enough time to get himself and his weapon in position, buckling under each strike…
Macnair deflected a strike from his assailant's wand-conjured blade and landed a kick to his jaw, creating enough space between them for the Death Eater to desperately pull out his wand. With a wave, he Disapparated.
Regaining his balance, the wizard let out a loud expletive, too angry with himself to care about the attitudes of his unwitting witnesses. With a wave of his wand, the mysterious humming blue-white blade retracted with a snap-hiss into its tip. He glanced back in Harry, Ron and Hermione's direction, then quickly Disapparated himself.
"What the bloody hell was that?" Ron asked in exasperation, looking between Harry and Hermione frantically.
"I don't know," Harry said. He glanced at Hermione, "Are you alright?"
She nodded grimly, "Yes, I'm fine." She looked back up the high street, noticing crowds of wizards gathering around the unconscious Death Eaters, tying them down and securing them, "How could Death Eaters just march right into Hogsmeade?"
Harry looked around, shaking his head, "I don't know. Maybe this fog let them slip in unnoticed."
"It's not so bad now," Ron commented, "How'd that happen?"
"Perhaps Macnair and the others used dark magic to amplify its effects," Hermione surmised, "Whoever that was who fought them had to be an Auror."
"I thought he looked familiar," Harry said.
Hermione nodded, "I thought that too. Once we get up to Hogwarts, I'll go into the student records and see what I can find."
"Right," Ron said, "I'll focus on finding anything on Regulus Black."
Harry and Hermione both stared at Ron wordlessly.
Ron quickly looked down at his feet, "Yeah, I'm worried too."
Harry and Hermione shared a quick look of amazement; He's volunteering to read books now?
"Come on then, let's go." Ron nodded off down the path towards Hogwarts, setting off. Harry and Hermione set off behind him, sharing another quick look; What have we done to him?
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